Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

Just after half past one Rath stepped out of his car in the atrium feeling very pleased with himself. Fortune favours the brave! was another one of his father’s sayings. The Oppenberg problem was ticked off, and soon the Ziehlke problem would be too. After lunch, the taxi driver’s statements would officially find their way into the new Vivian Franck file. Now it was time to see what his colleagues in Breslau had found.

When Rath entered his office, however, Lange was no longer sitting at Gräf’s desk. ‘He’s with Böhm,’ Erika Voss said, ‘and they’re expecting you, I was told to say.’

Rath went over. Böhm had just returned to the Castle, with everyone gathered around his desk like it was the campfire of an Indian chief: Henning, Christel Temme and Lange, who gave Rath an apologetic shrug as he entered the room.

‘There he is, the prodigal son,’ Böhm said. ‘Why didn’t you take Herr Lange with you as I requested?’

Rath cleared his throat. Why did he always have to justify himself in front of Böhm? ‘Vivian Franck has no relatives in Berlin,’ he said. ‘Her family lives in Breslau, which is why Herr Lange…’

‘So why didn’t you go to Breslau?’

‘Pardon me?’

‘Why are you and Lange not in Breslau informing the relatives of the murder victim?’

‘It seemed a little excessive, Sir. Assistant Detective Lange was to ask our colleagues in Breslau for assistance. I thought that in the wake of the Interior Ministry’s saving measures…’

‘You shouldn’t think! You should do as you’re told.’

‘As far as thinking is concerned, Sir – with respect, I must beg to differ.’

‘Don’t get fresh with me, Inspector.’

‘A trip to Breslau is unnecessary because it is highly doubtful whether any family members will come to her funeral, let alone to identify the body.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Vivian Franck had fallen out with all her relatives. Her father is a respected Breslau rabbi – and Vivian – well, she was the black sheep, so to speak, whom no one mentions at family gatherings.’

‘That may be,’ Böhm said, ‘but death changes many things.’

‘Contact with Breslau has been established, so we’ll see,’ Rath said. ‘As a precaution, however, I have asked Franck’s producer to identify the body. He was also privately involved with her. He can be at the morgue at three.’

‘All right,’ Böhm snarled. ‘Let’s leave it at that.’

‘If he identifies the actress beyond any doubt, we could arrange a press conference for this afternoon.’

‘Pardon me?’ Böhm looked as if Rath had just made an indecent proposal. ‘Get that thought out of your head, and that goes for everyone in this room. I don’t want to read anything about this case in the press for the time being! Another dead actress, the second inside a week! It’s possible that the press will uncover more connections.’

‘But the two fatalities have nothing to do with each other,’ Lange objected. ‘Nothing at all, except that they’re both actresses.’

‘The hacks aren’t interested in that,’ Böhm said, and Lange blushed. ‘No press conference, no press release, and I don’t want anyone in this room leaking anything. Not until we have closed the Franck file and can say to Berliners that there is no serial killer at large in their city.’

Everyone fell silent, examining their shoes or fingernails.

‘I’ve something to add, Sir!’ Rath ventured, despite Böhm’s ill temper.

‘What is it?’

‘I’ve been able to trace a witness, the taxi driver who picked up Vivian Franck when she left her flat with a few suitcases. That was…’ Rath leafed through his notebook even though he knew the date by heart, ‘…on the eighth of February.’

‘How did you find all that out so quickly?’ Böhm sounded suspicious.

‘Just a few calls, Sir. The concierge in Franck’s block of flats, then the taxi office. Herr Oppenberg gave me the…’

‘Who?’

‘Manfred Oppenberg. Vivian Franck’s producer, whom I visited in order to…’

‘Isn’t that the man we’ve already questioned as part of the Winter case? Felix Krempin’s former employer, who claims to know nothing?’

‘That’s him. He was kind enough to give me the telephone numbers…’

‘You shouldn’t be associating with people who are possible suspects in a murder enquiry!’ Böhm barked.

‘Oppenberg is suspected of murder?’

‘He certainly isn’t out of the woods if his former employee has committed murder. As for the Vivian Franck case, he’s a suspect just like anyone else connected to the deceased. That goes without saying, even if you have clearly made friends with him already. If you carry on like this, I’ll have you withdrawn from the case on the grounds of bias.’

‘I haven’t made friends with him, I’ve been investigating! When I have a piece of information, I pursue it, instead of wedging it between two folders and letting it go mouldy!’

Henning and Lange hunched even further over their files. Christel Temme wrote something on her pad, although no one was dictating. For a moment the only sound was the scratching of her pen. Böhm took a deep breath.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, young man!’ he said. ‘I’m still the one who assigns the tasks! Where would we be if everyone simply worked for themselves? Investigative work has to be co-ordinated, and that is precisely what you still have to learn. How to work with other people!’

Rath had to let a lot of air out of his lungs before continuing. ‘What task have you assigned me then, Sir?’ he asked.

‘You’re coming with me to the morgue,’ Böhm decided. ‘That way you won’t get any stupid ideas. You might as well postpone lunch. Better to see Dr Schwartz on an empty stomach.’

Damn it! ‘I can’t. I have to take care of Herr Ziehlke. He’s arriving at the station any minute.’

‘Who?’ the DCI barked.

‘Friedhelm Ziehlke. The taxi driver I was speaking about just now.’

Böhm glanced at his watch and waved him away. ‘Herr Lange can deal with that. You’re coming with me!’

Dr Schwartz had worked quickly, eager to be rid of bodies like Vivian Franck’s. It was still lying there, however, when Rath and Böhm entered the autopsy room in the cellar of the morgue. Schwartz was washing his hands when they arrived, an activity he engaged in with unusual frequency. He greeted his visitors with a brief nod in the mirror.

‘Well I never,’ he said, without turning around, ‘Messrs Böhm and Rath. You’ve been inseparable lately!’

Böhm gave an involuntary grunt.

‘Good that you could come so quickly,’ Schwarz continued, greeting the police officers with a freshly washed handshake, before leading them to the marble table. Rath couldn’t help but swallow when he saw what death had done to such a beautiful woman. Her face looked more dead than at the crime scene, not that it fazed the doctor. ‘Should we get something to eat afterwards?’ he asked.

‘No time,’ Böhm said, ‘there’s someone coming to identify the corpse at three. So, whenever you’re ready.’

‘In short, this is one of the strangest corpses you’ve ever entrusted me.’ Schwartz produced a pencil and pointed towards the dead face. ‘She was heavily made up. We had to give her a good wash. Don’t worry: ED took a few samples of the make-up beforehand. Without wishing to pre-empt Kronberg, I’d say theatre make-up, or rather, film make-up. She was done up for a shoot.’

There wasn’t much left of it now. Vivian Franck’s face looked like most four-week-old corpses, pale and blotchy, a little deformed in places, fingernails yellow and a little too long.